


There You'll Be

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Even the best agent can be haunted by nightmares; fortunately, he has a partner that can help.





	There You'll Be

_It was a foggy night as Illya drove them up the twisty mountain road; Napoleon had offered to drive, but Illya had been afraid of his motion sickness kicking in and had insisted on driving. Napoleon had relaxed and enjoyed the drive, chatting with his partner as they continued towards their destination._

_The roar of an engine behind them caught their attention, and Illya tutted at the speed demon daring to race on such a dangerous road. It was as the car attempted to pass them, however, that they realized it was not an ordinary car; they discerned the THRUSH logo too late because of the fog. But before the two of them could react, the car swerved into them with such force that their car was sent off the road, rolling onto its back._

_Napoleon let out a cry as Illya went flying out of the car; he had stayed inside, and as he crawled out through the damaged front windshield, he spotted his partner’s hands, crimson with blood from his injuries, grasping frantically at what Napoleon realized was the precipice of the mountain._

_“Napoleon…!” he gasped, his hands too slippery to get a grip strong enough to pull himself up. “Napoleon…!”_

_His voice cracked, and Napoleon had thrown himself to the edge of the precipice, reaching for Illya’s hands. To his dismay, his partner had slipped down just out of reach, and Illya let out a strangled cry as he began to slip further down the slope. The Russian looked down, unable to see what was beneath him on account of a heavy fog bank that cloaked the mountain. A voiceless look of fear flickered across Illya’s face, followed by a look of resignation._

_“No!” Napoleon cried, leaning further and extending a hand. “You’ve got reach out, Illya! I’ll pull you up—just grab on to me!”_

_Illya now attempted to grab onto Napoleon’s hand, but as Napoleon began to pull him up, Illya’s grip slipped again, and he let out a horrified cry as he began to fall._

_“NO!” Napoleon yelled, reaching for him in vain._

_The look of pure fear on Illya’s face as he vanished into the fog was like a thousand knives striking Napoleon in the heart. And then, Illya’s cry was suddenly cut off._

_“Illya!” he yelled, helplessly. “ILLYA!”_

An instant later, Napoleon’s eyes flew open, and he found himself lying in his own bed in his own apartment, staring at the darkness of the ceiling—there was no car, no fog, no mountain…

_Illya…!_

His heart skipped a beat as he looked beside him, and then he exhaled in relief as he saw Illya there, perfectly fine and stirring slightly as Napoleon’s sudden movements disturbed his sleep.

“…’Poleon?” Illya murmured, opening his eyes. Something about Napoleon’s appearance concerned him, because Illya then blinked a few times, coming even more awake. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” Napoleon said. “I just had a nightmare.” _Thank goodness that’s all it was_ , he silently added. He shuddered as the mental image of a terrified Illya falling into the fog returned to his mind’s eye.

Illya gave him a sympathetic look.

“Niagara again?”

“No… No, not this time,” Napoleon said

“D’you want me to make you some coffee?” Illya asked.

“No,” Napoleon said, shaking his head. “I just…”

He trailed off and Illya looked even more concerned.

“Can I get you anything?” the Russian asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Napoleon promised. “Really.”

Illya gently touched Napoleon’s shoulder, and patiently continued to do so as Napoleon now wrapped his arms around Illya tightly. Illya could feel Napoleon’s heart hammering in his chest; the nightmare had shaken him up badly.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, as Napoleon gently rested his chin on his head. “You’re fine now.”

“I know,” Napoleon said. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Illya was beginning to put the pieces together, and gently laid his head on Napoleon’s chest.

“Do you wish to discuss it?”

“There’s not really much to discuss,” Napoleon said, not wanting to tell Illya had he had just dreamed him dying. “I was just… reminded about how so many people… Especially certain people… depend on me—and that I can end up letting them down. And with the kind of work I do, if that happens, it could mean their deaths.”

He drew his arms tighter around Illya, finding it reassuring that his beloved partner was warm and safe with him.

Illya now drew his arms around him.

“You always do the very best you can, _Dorogoy_ ,” Illya said. “No one can ask any more from you. You are human, and you have limitations. I know you seek to make yourself into a paragon of perfection… Don’t give me that look; you know it is true!”

Napoleon managed a chuckle in spite of himself.

“But in spite of how you wish to attain absolute perfection,” Illya continued. “I must, regretfully, inform you that it is impossible. However, I am glad.”

“Huh?”

“If you were perfect, you could not possibly be human. And that would mean that I could not love you as I do, nor could you love me. As you are, you are everything I could ever want.”

“Well, thanks,” Napoleon said. “You’re everything I could ever want, too. But, ah… if I was perfect… What would I be if I couldn’t be human?”

“A cat, of course,” Illya replied, without missing a beat.

Napoleon couldn’t help but laugh—and Illya continued to hold onto him, gleefully feeling each laugh going through Napoleon’s body.

“…So that means Baba Yaga is…?”

“Exactly. Rejoice, for we are raising a perfect daughter together.”

“Well, I guess I can settle for that,” Napoleon mused.

He continued to hold Illya close; the tension brought about from the nightmare was slowly dissipating as Illya patiently held him back.

“Thanks, Illya.”

“Thank you, too, Napoleon.”

Just the knowledge that they were warm and safe together was enough to help Napoleon relax—the feel of their heartbeats against each other’s chests and the soft breaths of warm air on their skin were enough to gently lull the both of them to sleep.

This time, their dreams were both peaceful as they slept in each other’s arms.


End file.
